


it's a sad song (but we sing it anyway)

by be_the_good_guys



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, The 100 (TV) Season 7 Speculation, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/be_the_good_guys/pseuds/be_the_good_guys
Summary: "Whatever happens, Clarke Griffin doesn’t break.""That’s not true."After winning the war to end all wars, Clarke finally gets the chance.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 56





	it's a sad song (but we sing it anyway)

When it’s over, there is no fanfare.

The sky doesn’t open up to cast sunlight on the dawn of a new era; in fact, it’s still raining.

When it’s over, the first thing Indra does is split them in groups. Wonkru, prisoners, COGs, Believers, it doesn’t matter anymore. Battling a common enemy united them.

Half of them deal with the dead, and Clarke goes with the other half to help the wounded. She spends a day in Medical before retreating to the farmhouse.

It’s still raining, and Bellamy’s waiting for her on the porch, clean of the grime and blood he was covered in when she last saw him. He’s looking out over the field, but his eyes immediately zone in on her when she comes into view.

He doesn’t even wait for her to reach the house, hurrying down the porch steps and meeting her at the bottom, putting an arm around her and guiding her back up out of the rain. They don’t need words for greetings anymore.

“Twenty dead,” he murmurs, turning to face her. “Indra’s organizing the funerals based on klan. We’re helping with prisoner, COG and Believer arrangements too.”

“Make that twenty-three,” she says. “Three of the injured didn’t make it.”

One had died before they could even get them inside Medical, one in surgery, and one that morning.

The last one had been a COG whose family didn’t bother showing up for his death. When there was nothing left Jackson could do for him, Clarke had started humming, a lilting, familiar tune that she didn’t know the words too, but she hoped put him at peace as he drifted off.

Now, looking at Bellamy, it hits her why that song came to mind: it was the same tune she’d hummed to Atom as he died- her first kill.

She leans back against the porch banister to play off the wave of dizziness that overcomes her at the realization. 

Bellamy sees through it. Of course he does, she shouldn’t expect to be able to hide anything from him at this point.

“You okay?” He asks, worry tugging down the corners of his lips and creasing his brow. He shakes his head a little, adding, “Stupid question, I know.”

She tries to smile a little, but her lips feel like lead.

“You said three of the injured didn’t make it,” Bellamy continues, hesitant. “Is Miller-”

“He pulled through surgery,” she says, but that’s all she can say.

Bellamy isn’t satisfied. “Will he survive?”

Clarke doesn’t reply. The lump in her throat grows, throbbing, and she tears her eyes away from Bellamy’s.

“Clarke, be honest,” he says, his voice painfully gentle. “Please.”

She continues to not look at him, staring out at the rain.

“He made it through surgery,” she restarts, taking a shuddering breath. “But it… doesn’t look good.” She blinks several times, but her vision keeps blurring, and more tears just slide down her face. “I don’t think he’s gonna make it through the night.”

Bellamy sighs, a sound heavy with exhaustion. “Hey. Clarke, look at me.”

She does, and in seeing her grief reflected so clearly in his expression, the dam breaks. “I tried, Bellamy,” she whispers, voice cracking, face crumbling. “I kept trying to save them and… and… we won the war and I still can’t-”

She isn’t sure whether she falls into his arms or he pulls her in. Maybe both- maybe they collided, and now there is no telling where she ends and he begins in their tangle of limbs. He’s holding her up, and her cheek is pressed against his, and she cries because she finally can.

She cries for Miller. She cries for those who they’ve already lost: Diyoza and Gabriel and Niylah and Echo and Murphy. She cries for the mountain of lost souls they stand upon.

She cries for the living, too. For Emori and John’s unborn child. For Octavia and Hope Diyoza. For Levitt, the last of his people. For Indra and Gaia, who almost didn't get the chance to reconcile. For Jackson. For Madi, who lost half of the family Clarke had promised to her before they could even become a real family. For Jordan, whose innocence is unsalvageable. For Bellamy and Raven. She cries for herself, because people she loved are gone forever or fading, and she’s so goddamn _tired_.

“Is it over?” She sobs breathlessly, her fingers bunching up the back of his sweater, just in case he vanishes in her arms- she wouldn’t be surprised if he did. “Do you think it’s over now?”

He’s crying too; his tears are mixing with hers where their faces touch. He pulls back slightly to lean his forehead against hers, and when he speaks, she feels the heat of his words flutter against her skin. “Yeah,” is what he says. “I think it finally is.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am sincerely sorry to whoever read this
> 
> this literally my death predictions list for this season turned bellarke fanfic  
> even miller, who i'm not sure about
> 
> the show can't hurt me if i hurt myself first hahahaha
> 
> depending on how this does i might,.,. continue it?? i feel bad leaving it on such a depressing note
> 
> sorry again guys


End file.
